


The Right Hand of the Devil

by TaleasOldasTimeandSpace



Series: Fairy Tales and Hokum [8]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Crack, Emma is as the kids say crusin' for a bruisn', F/M, FLYNN YOU WINGNUT WHY AREN'T YOU HUGGING HER, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Jiya is an equal opportunity heckler, Mummy AU, Rufus ain't got time for Flynn's shenanigans, garcy, lucy needs a hug, unfortunately Flynn is made of shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 12:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16492799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleasOldasTimeandSpace/pseuds/TaleasOldasTimeandSpace
Summary: Emma continues to be awful, Wyatt continues to be creepy, and our heroes continue to be amazing





	The Right Hand of the Devil

Jiya was starting to think she'd made the wrong decision.  At the time, when offered the choice to join Flynn and Rufus’ expedition to track down Neville and return him to the relative safety of the fort or stay with Lucy for a thrilling research session, she’d chosen the rescue mission without hesitation.  Research was Lucy’s specialty, not Jiya’s.  But Flynn and Rufus’ constant bickering, while entertaining at first, was making her regret her impetuousness.  At least research would have been quiet.  (Though the way Lucy had been muttering about mummies and becoming a human sacrifice over her dead body, maybe not.)

Rufus seemed to be holding Flynn solely and completely responsible for the mummy, despite the fact that Lucy had admitted to reading the book.  Personally, Jiya suspected it had more to do with Flynn threatening to blow him up.  To be fair, she wouldn’t appreciate having a lit stick of dynamite waved in her face, either.

Flynn being Flynn, he seemed to be deriving unholy pleasure from needling the younger man.  Just now it was about his background, which Jiya had to admit—though never out loud, obviously—she'd been wondering about herself.

‘You're not from around here,’ Flynn said, eyeing him speculatively, ‘not with an accent like that.’

Rufus sniffed.  ‘You're one to talk.’

‘True,’ Flynn agreed cheerfully.  Jiya was starting to suspect the only thing that could truly rattle him was the mummy.  And Lucy, of course.  ‘But you don't see me claiming leadership of a tribe of Medjai, either.’

‘He's right though,’ Jiya added.  ‘You sound like you're from Chicago.’

‘Wow, wonder why.  Oh, maybe because I _am_ from Chicago.’

‘So how did you end up here?’  No, it wasn't any of her business, and yes, she was being rude, but she was curious.  And after the last few weeks, her social graces were sorely lacking.

‘How does anybody?’ Rufus asked.  ‘How did _you?’_  His social graces weren't exactly up to par, either.

‘My parents were archaeologists, and he's on the run from the law,’ she said, jerking a thumb at Flynn.  She didn't know that for sure, but her entire acquaintance with Flynn told her it was extremely plausible.

Rufus stared at her.  One eye was developing a nasty twitch, which could seriously impede his fighting abilities if he wasn’t careful.  ‘And _these_ are hands that hold the fate of the world.’

Flynn clapped a hand on his shoulder.  ‘Relax, Rufus.  We’re scrappy and resourceful.  The mummy doesn’t stand a chance.’

Rufus shrugged him off.  ‘That makes me feel _so_ much better.  Thanks.’

Karl, who was leading the expedition since he was the only one who actually knew where the Egyptologist  lived, shot them a glare over his shoulder.  ‘Are you done?  Because I, for one, would prefer to find Neville and get back to the fort without being eaten.’

‘We are so very done.’  Rufus lengthened his stride to catch up with Karl—though if Flynn wanted to he could have caught up easily.  The man _was_ built like one of the Colossi of Memnon, after all.  ‘Why are you the only one with any sense around here?’

Karl snorted darkly.  ‘The looming threat of one’s own mortality will do that to a person.’

Jiya winced at the reminder of what the Americans faced if they couldn't figure out a way to stop the mummy, and ruthlessly squashed the spike of guilty relief that they were the ones who opened that stupid chest.  The only thing she could focus on right now was keeping them alive long enough for Lucy to work her researching magic.

That, and distracting herself by interrogating their new friend.  ‘Seriously, though, why _did_ you come here?  Did you wake up one day and decided to chuck it all and go live as a nomad in the Egyptian desert?’

He sighed.  ‘Yes, Jiya, I dropped out of MIT because I wanted to move halfway across the world to live in a desert.’

She exchanged raised eyebrows with Flynn.  ‘Really?’  That sounded unlikely.  Then again, her life had become extremely unlikely of late, so she wasn’t exactly in a position to fault him for it.

‘No!’  He raised a hand, finger and thumb an inch apart.  ‘I was _this close_ to getting my doctorate in mechanical engineering, and now I live in a tent, there’s no plumbing whatsoever, and I’m pretty sure my horse is just waiting for me to let my guard down so he can eat me.  And don’t even get me started on the sand.’

_Sand…?_  ‘What’s wrong with—’

Rufus stopped abruptly, causing Jiya to plow into him.  ‘I HATE IT!  Sand is the _worst._  It’s coarse, it’s rough, it’s irritating, and it gets _everywhere!’_

Flynn gently peeled Jiya off Rufus’ back.  ‘I’ve never heard someone quite so passionate about sand,’ he murmured.

Jiya snickered, tried to turn it into a cough, and started choking instead.  Flynn obligingly thumped her on the back.

‘I'm so glad you find my suffering amusing.’  Rufus pinched the bridge of his nose.  ‘Look, I'll say this once, and then maybe we can get back to more important things, like—and this is just a crazy idea here—saving the world.  My dad was the last chief, and when he died unexpectedly, I had to leave school to…  Take over the family business.  And yes, I am aware that my life sounds like something out of an Edgar Rice Burroughs novel, but since you lot brought a mummy back to life, you really have no right to judge, and _why are we just standing here?’_

Karl cleared his throat.  ‘Mostly because you stopped to yell at each other in the middle of the street—’

‘I have never raised my voice once during this entire conversation,’ Flynn remarked with that tone of mild long-suffering only he could achieve.

‘—but also because we're here,’ Karl finished with a wave to the building across the street.

_‘Finally.’_  Rufus brushed past him to push through the door.

The apartment was functional, and that was the best that could be said about it.  Not unlike Neville himself.  It was also distinctly Nevilleless.

That didn’t mean it was empty.

Emma stood in the centre of the room, frozen in the act of emptying Neville's desk onto the floor.  She blinked as they came through the door, then threw the ink blotter she held at Flynn.  He swatted it away and charged across the room, snagging her by the back of her shirt before she could throw herself out the window and slamming her against the bookshelf.

‘Emma.’  She aimed a viscous kick at his shin.  He staggered a little, but didn’t let go.  ‘Why am I not surprised to see you.’

‘Flynn.  I was really hoping you were dead.’  She made to punch him, and Jiya reached for her gun.  

Flynn beat her to it, one of his Colts materializing next to Emma's temple.  ‘I disappoint a lot of people that way.  You want to tell me what you’re doing here?’

She shrugged, baring her teeth in a feral grin.  ‘Measuring the room to see if my furniture would fit.  Heard the previous owner was as good as dead.’

‘Cute.  You came back across the desert with the new friend, didn’t you?’

‘Aw, Flynn!’  Her eyes widened in mock innocence.  ‘You know you’re my only friend!’

‘Right, we’ll do this the fun way.’  Flynn pulled her away from the bookcase and hauled her over to the ceiling fan.

As soon as Rufus realized Flynn’s plan, he drew his scimitar.  ‘Flynn, stop!’

Jiya put a hand on his arm before he could move.  ‘Wait, just let him work.’

Flynn ignored them both, his entire focus on Emma as he held her up, her head just inches below the spinning blades.  ‘What were you looking for?  And try not to lie this time.’

‘The book!  The book Neville found!’  Emma squirmed in his grip.  ‘He said something about bringing his dead girlfriend back to life, I stopped listening after a while.  Honestly,’ her struggles paused as she eyed Flynn thoughtfully, ‘he’s as boring as you were when you went on and _on_ about your dead family.’

Jiya sucked in a breath, and even Rufus winced.

Flynn's eyes went cold.  Emma seemed to finally realize she'd miscalculated when he pulled her close to his face.  ‘That's the second time you've tried to use my family against me,’ he hissed.  ‘Do it again and you won't like the consequences.’  She nodded mutely.  ‘Did he say anything else?’

A scream pulled their attention to the street.  ‘Ask him yourself,’ Emma spat, taking advantage of the distraction to punch Flynn in the gut.   She ran to the window and threw herself through it as he doubled over.

Rufus ran to the window as Jiya darted to Flynn.  ‘You alright?’ she asked.

‘I've had worse,’ he wheezed.

She rolled her eyes, patting him on the shoulder.  ‘Right, I forgot you're a tough guy.’

‘I've found the Egyptologist,’ Rufus said, leaning out the broken window.  He pulled back inside, slamming the shutters closed as a swarm of—were those _flies?_ —splattered themselves against the wood.  ‘Unfortunately, the creature found him first.’

A chill shot down her spine, and she forgot all about Emma and the mummy.  She didn’t even realize she was halfway to the door until Flynn caught her arm, snapping her out of the haze that sometimes came when the Sight took her.

‘Jiya?  Are you okay?’

She shook her head.  ‘We have to get back to Lucy, Flynn.  We have to go, right now!’

* * *

 

Lucy was dreaming.

She knew she was dreaming.  It was fantastically plausible, the way the dreams she had when she fell asleep doing research often were.  Garcia had stolen a time machine, inexplicably shaped like one of those British police boxes, and they were going to go back in time to save his family and her parents and Amy, and then visit Seti I to stop Wy’att before he ever became a mummy.  Rufus knew how to fly the machine, and he was working a dizzying number of levers and buttons while Jiya taught Iris how to pick pockets.

It was all weirdly domestic, and even in the dream she knew it couldn't last.  But oh, how she wanted it to.  Especially when Garcia came up to her and cupped her face in his hands.  She wrapped her fingers around his wrists as he smiled down at her, lowering his head to press a kiss to her mouth.  It was…not nearly as pleasant as she remembered.  His lips were dry and scratchy against her own, and the kiss tasted strangely musty.

Her eyes popped open, meeting blue instead of green before she pulled away with a gasp.  Wy'att smiled at her.  At least, she thought it was a smile.  The upper half of his looked almost normal, but the lower half...  It was as withered as when he was a comfortingly unanimated corpse.

Ah, the good old days.

He moved toward her, whether to try and kiss her again or something else she didn’t know and had no intention of finding out.  She snatched up the book she’d been using for a pillow and smashed it right across his unnecessarily macabre face.  As his head cracked to the side she dove out of her chair and sprinted for the door of her study.  The door she had locked as a precaution when Jiya and Flynn and the rest had left to find Neville.  Fat lot of good that had done her.  How had he even got in?

‘Jeska!’  She heard a crash behind her and turned to see that he’d _thrown_ her desk out of his way.

‘My name is not Jeska!’  She threw the book at him, not waiting to see if it hit.  It wasn’t like it was the book that would kill him.  Her fingers scrabbled to unlock the door as she wondered, a little hysterically, if they could kill him by beaning him with the Book of the Living.  He caught her arm, hauling her back from freedom.  Where were Noah and Stiv?  Surely they could tell something was wrong.  She and Wy’att weren't exactly being quiet.  What was the point of having them stay back to guard her if they weren’t going to do any actual guarding?

She twisted in Wy’att’s grip, fully prepared to punch him again, when the door burst open.  Garcia crashed through, unloading both his revolvers into the mummy almost before he cleared the door.  The force of the bullets was enough of a distraction for Lucy to break free.

Before Wy’att could retaliate, Jiya yelled, ‘Hey creep!  Look what I got!’ and held up the cat from Bruhl’s room.  Wy’att let out a shriek and burst into a cloud of sand, swirling around the room and out the nearest window.

Lucy sank into the nearest chair, her movements loud in the silence that followed.

Garcia came to kneel in front of her.  ‘You okay?’ he asked, checking her over for injuries.

She smacked her lips, suddenly aware of the lingering taste of mummy breath.  ‘I need to brush my teeth.’

He laughed, leaning his forehead against hers.  ‘I'm sure that can be arranged.’

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Rufus' is basically the Phantom (the Ghost Who Walks, not the Opera Ghost).
> 
> For your viewing pleasure, [this](https://media.giphy.com/media/12riOt2992eKXK/giphy.gif) is exactly what I had in mind when Emma throws the blotter at Flynn. 
> 
> This was supposed to go all the way through the end of the night, but I think it would end up being about twice as long (and I know, you probably wouldn't object, but this felt like a good stopping point). Besides, it's been about three thousand years since I updated. 
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr!](https://taleasoldastime-andspace.tumblr.com/)


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